


strawberry sands

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Feelings, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Ice Cream, M/M, Soft Kylux, Summer Romance, benarmie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 11:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20375788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Summer is drawing to a close, and Ben has yet to make a move on the cute, redheaded tourist he's had his eye on for weeks.There's still time to steal a kiss before Armitage leaves for good, but will Ben ever be satisfied with just one?





	strawberry sands

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday present for hurtkylo on Twitter! I'm also adding it to the Kylux Summer Fest for good measure, using the words sweet, love, and oh for the Summer Love week. Enjoy!

Ben watches the sun slowly paint the walls of the shop from cream to gold to pink as it descends towards the horizon. The days are still long, but the throngs of summer crowds started to thin about a week ago. This time last Thursday Ben was up to his ears in customers, deftly scooping so much ice cream in the span of a couple hours that after his shift he felt sure his wrist might snap off if he so much as attempted to lift another shaker of sprinkles. 

But much like the rest of Chandrila, the shop is a ghost town now. The white chairs by the window still sit perfectly undisturbed from the spot where Ben had set them up this morning. The floors are free of scuff marks and sand tracked in from the beach, and he hasn’t had to replace a single drum of ice cream since opening, not even chocolate. With back to school season starting in just a couple of days, most of the vacationing families had returned home, leaving the little seaside spot behind to live in their memories and photo books. 

In a way, Ben feels grateful that summer is winding to a close. He likes the extra hours and money that comes with working the busiest time of the year, but it’s also nice to actually have time to breath and relax while he's on the clock. 

Ben glances up as the shadow of a couple walking hand in hand moves across the clean tile floor, waiting to see if they’ll stop inside. He can hear their muted conversation but can’t see their faces. He watches them walk past, their forms framed against the setting sun, before resting his hip against the speckled linoleum countertop. He slides his phone out of his pocket to glance at his texts. 

_ Mom >>> 5:22pm _

_ Chicken casserole for dinner ok? _

Ben’s at that phase in his life where just plain “food” is as good a dinner as any. He shrugs, quickly texting her back.

_ Ben >>> 5:39pm _

_ Sounds good mom _

No one else has contacted him in the past couple of hours, nor chatted him up on any social media. Ben is about to open up a casual color-matching game he’d downloaded a couple days ago and gotten a bit addicted to in his spare time, when the bell above the front entrance rings. 

Ben stows his phone back in his pocket and straightens up, usual welcome on the tip of his tongue before he sees exactly who has walked into his store.

“Armie!” Ben chirps, a little too loud. He waves above his head, as if it were at all possible for the young man in the shop to miss him. 

From the very beginning Armitage Hux had looked out of place in Chandrila. Even now, dressed in a pair of sandals, blue chino shorts, and a linen shirt, he looks more like a summer catalogue model than a local or even the average, garish tourist. Someone must’ve bought him an entire wardrobe specifically for this vacation, because none of these clothes look like something the sour-faced, haughty young man would ever choose for himself. He sharply contrasts with Ben, who always looks at home in as little clothing as possible, loving to show off his burgeoning muscles in tank tops and mid-thigh length trunks whenever he has the opportunity. 

“Well, I was going to pop in and say hello, but it looks like you’re absolutely swamped. Perhaps another time?” Armitage says, dry as salt, hands tucked in his pockets as he approaches the counter. 

Ben chuckles. Armitage’s polished accent makes anything he says funny, even when he’s obviously trying to be scathing. 

“Oh yeah. Business is _ booming_,” Ben says, elongating the words in a sarcastic drawl. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir, we’re nearly at max capacity as is.”

Armitage suddenly looks even more terse than usual. He lets his breath whistle out between his teeth as his posture sags.

“Yes, well. No need to fret about that, father says we must be heading back home tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Ben says, feeling his heart drop a little bit. He’d figured that Armitage would have to leave soon, considering most of the other vacationers had already cleared out, but it still comes as a blow. “Right. You probably have to go back to university, right?”

Armitage nods. “I must say, I’ll be ecstatic to get back to my own peers, instead of slumming it with loud-mouthed boors such as yourself for weeks on end.” 

“You know, you’re never going to land a girlfriend with that bitchy attitude, Armie.” Ben smirks at the other boy’s offended frown. “Seriously. You’re probably the only person our age around here who _ didn’t _ get laid this summer.”

“And _ you’re _ such an expert?” Hux splutters, pulling his hands out of his pockets to cross his arms over his chest. “I’ve only ever seen you slaving away for the sugar-addicted masses here. Hardly painting the town red and sowing your wild oats, _ Benjamin_.”

“I already told you, that’s not my full name,” Ben laughs, skirting around the edge of the counter so he could see his friend better. “Also: glass houses, _ Armitage_.”

He leans up against the wall of the ice cream freezer, canting his body slightly to the side. His muscles show even though the plain black fabric of his uniform shirt, with the words “Chandrila Creamery” stretched to their limit across his chest. After a moment of subtle flexing, he puts his hands behind his back, untying the half apron wrapped around his waist as Armitage tries to hide his staring. 

“I’m about to close up the shop.” Ben winks, balling up his apron in his hands. “Wait for me outside?”

Armitage rolls his eyes. Ben notices he does that a lot, like everything around him is at all times too much of an annoyance to bear. But Ben doesn’t mind. Honestly, it’s a little fun to be one of Armitage’s annoyances. 

“I can’t, I still have to pack. And father has reservations for The Riviera at seven-thirty. I shouldn’t dally or I’ll be late.”

“At most it’ll only take me a couple minutes to clean everything up. Seriously, look at this place. No one’s been here all day. _ Spotless_, and I didn’t even have to break a sweat.”

“Ben, I can’t—”

“Not even for a single scoop strawberry cone with chocolate shavings?”

Armitage’s lips purse together. Ben smirks. Got him. 

Armitage holds his annoyed expression for a moment longer before sighing. “I really shouldn’t fill up before dinner, especially considering how much I’ve been overindulging lately. I must’ve gained several pounds over the past couple of weeks, with how much ice cream you keep shoving at me.” 

“You’re still as much of a beanpole as you were when you first came here, and dinner at The Riviera won’t do much to change that,” Ben snorts. “Seriously, you seen their portion sizes? You’re going to _ lose _ weight eating all that fancy crap.” 

A smile pulls at Armitage’s lips, even as he awkwardly looks away. The pink on his cheeks could be blush, could be the fading sunlight shining in from the windows. 

“Where shall I wait for you?”

“Just across the way by the seawall. It’ll give us a nice view of the sunset.” Ben points, just in case Armitage hasn’t learned the lay of Chandrila’s land by now. 

“I need to be home _ by _ sunset,” Armitage asserts, even as he moves back towards the door, “you better not be a minute late!” 

Ben grins, cupping his hand around his mouth to shout after him. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it!”

* * *

Sure enough, Armitage is sitting right atop the seawall by the time Ben closes up shop. He makes a beeline right towards him, apron gripped in one hand, slightly drippy strawberry cone in the other. Armitage looks up at the sound of his footsteps, scooting over a bit when he sees Ben coming. 

“You didn’t bring one for yourself?” Armitage asks, raising an eyebrow as he takes the cone. 

“You work at an ice cream shop on and off for three years, you get a little tired of eating your own supply.” Ben settles in beside Armitage, tucking one leg up atop the seawall and letting the other dangle over. “Now, if we ever got some new flavors, that would be a different story.”

“Well. I don’t mind the classics.” Armitage gives his ice cream a tentative lick, catching one of the chocolate shavings on his tongue. “Though I do believe strawberry to be the most underrated of the big three.”

“Standard strawberry tastes a little too fake to me. I’m a vanilla man myself. You know, they say we’re the most impulsive.”

Armitage scoffs. “While I wouldn’t say ice cream is usually a reliable indicator of personality traits...in this case, it fits.”

“You think I’m impulsive?” Ben smirks. “But I thought I spent all my life at work, serving my fellow sugar-addicted Americans?”

“You do. But that doesn’t preclude you from being impulsive.”

Ben hums. The sea breeze picks lightly at his hair, carrying the scent of salt and fire pits dotted further up the shore. 

“Wish I had more time to show you around town. Then you could really see whether I’m as impulsive as you think I am or not.”

“I wish too,” Armitage says, daintily licking the sides of his ice cream as if he were a cat with a fresh dish of milk. “But Father wants us packed by midday tomorrow. We’re driving to Newark to stay one more night, then flying out at dawn.” 

“Damn.” Ben snaps his fingers. “And just like that, you’ll be back at uni.”

“More or less,” Armitage says with a sigh, holding his ice cream with both hands as he settles it into his lap. “And all this will just be a memory.”

They sink into a silence that Ben finds a little awkward. He looks sidelong at Armitage, taking in the reddish glow from the sun alighting on his expression. He looks wistful, as if even the present, this moment with Ben, is already fading into the past. 

“Careful,” Ben mumbles, pointing to a dribble of ice cream rolling down the side of the cone. “Don’t wanna spill.”

“Oh—damn,” Armitage quickly lifts the cone back up to his mouth, licking up the trail of melting strawberry. He laps at the stickiness on his lips, adopting his usual, reassuring frown. Ben has started calling it his “thinking frown.” It’s one of a kind—Ben has never seen that sort of intelligent grumpiness on anyone else’s face before. 

“You scooped far too much. I’m not sure I can finish this on my own before it’s melted.” Armitage turns, sunlight glimmering on his his hair like the crests of the waves down on the shore below. “Don’t suppose you can put that big mouth of yours to good use?”

A smile returns to Ben’s face. 

“Sure, I suppose I can lend you a hand. Or a tongue.” He leans in, licking a quick stripe up the side of the teetering ice cream. Armitage pulls a face. 

“You’re shameless. And don’t you think I’m going to let you gobble it _ all _ up, glutton.” 

To Ben’s surprise, Armitage doesn’t wait for him to finish his turn with the ice cream, instead lapping at the other side while Ben still has his mouth on it. It brings their faces close together—far closer than they’ve ever been before. 

Ben has known Armitage for weeks now, but never before did he see the soft dusting of freckles across his cheeks, nor the pale flutter of his lashes as his eyes droop half-closed. There’s a lot of things Ben notices now that he’s this close to Armitage. He can see that the sun and sea breeze have introduced softer, lighter streaks into his hair—though maybe that’s due in part to the fact that he’d quickly given up on using that concrete styling gel to keep it all slicked back in an arrogant coif. 

_ Fuck_. Armitage is beautiful. 

Ben’s mouth goes dry, even as he takes a bite of the ice cream. He swallows, suddenly feeling on edge. He slides his leg off the seawall, letting it dangle beside the other. 

“You know,” Ben says, leaning away and letting Armitage take back his cone, “I didn’t realize it before, but I think I actually like strawberry.”

It’s meant to be a bit of a joke, but instead of laughing or smiling, Armitage suddenly looks sad again. He lifts his eyes to lock with Ben’s, green irises shining. His lips part, working silently, as if trying to conjure the right words. When his voice finally comes, it’s small, hardly more than a whisper. 

“I don’t want to go, Ben.”

The sunlit waves continue to crash against the shore, in time with Ben’s beating heart. He swallows, the taste of sugar lingering in the back of his throat. 

“Then don’t,” Ben mumbles, hand bridging the remaining space between them, “stay with me.” 

The linen of Armitage’s shirt feels soft in Ben’s grasp as he curls his fingers into its collar and draws him in close. Their lips meet tentatively at first, and when Armitage gasps against his mouth Ben worries he might struggle away and shout at him, reject him for daring to assume that he’d return his feelings. But as Ben presses forward, eager to kiss the sweet cold off of his lips, Armitage melts. Emboldened, Ben caresses his soft, pale cheek, letting his other hand slide along the seawall to brush over Armitage’s knuckles. 

Ben keeps those hands where they are even when their lips finally part. His thumb strokes the pattern of freckles beneath Armitage’s eye, heart palpitating when that deep, sea green meets his gaze. Ben wants to kiss him again, immediately, but he feels so light and floaty that the breeze might carry him away if he’s not careful. 

Miraculously, Armitage still holds the remains of the strawberry cone in his hands, though it’s rapidly dripping all over his fingers. Ben finally pulls his own hands away, moving to grab a spare napkin from his apron pocket, only for Armitage to catch the sleeve of his shirt and tug him back. 

“I didn’t let go of my ice cream,” Armitage murmurs, voice breathless. “You’re going to have to do better than that this time around.”

Their lips meet again. And again. In between kisses Ben whispers promises into the secret place inside Armitage’s mouth, his heart swelling like the endless tide, constant like the pink waves washing against the shore. 

The melted, soggy ice cream cone falls to the sand below. 

The sun sets. 

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe Hux can return to Chandrila next summer...
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


End file.
